


Drag

by astridshepard



Category: Mass Effect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 03:27:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8473660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astridshepard/pseuds/astridshepard
Summary: Who's like us? Damn few.
(And they're all dead.)





	

The bones of the old city jut up towards the sky, black as the water they slept in. Man’s first skyscrapers, they had called them, before the storms rolled through. The cold wind ignored the hoodie she had just pulled down, as uncaring to her now as it had been to the buildings then.

Here she hid with the other rejects and degenerates cast off from the civilized centers, away from the gangs ( _her_ gang) but nowhere near as safe. The last meal she swiped was eaten long before the sun went down, and she still had miles to go.

The building shuddered and moaned as another transport ship passed overhead on its way to the landing port. Shepard clung to a beam at her back, swaying with it in the hope it would use her as its anchor. She’d need to move on, but not yet. _Hold on just a little longer_.

The bones sighed, and she with them.

 

\---

 

The Alliance knew better than to turn away the desperate. Barely skin and bones, she played the part well. But she was alive after 300 miles in backwater terrain, and they could respect that.

So what if she was using them to escape a problem, replacing one set of chains with another? She’d picked her fair share of locks, and theirs would be no different.

 

\---

 

Run faster, jump higher, yessir, catch up, wonder what you missed.

_An object in motion remains in motion unless acted upon by another force._

The Alliance did not budge. It asked and it took, and enacted merciless judgment on those who couldn’t keep up. There was always another assignment, more reading to be done, more training to complete.

_Energy can neither be created or destroyed; rather it transforms from one from to another._

Pushed, but supported. Demanded, but shown the paths laid before her. Shepard was determined to see them all.

_I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul_

To invest yourself in matters other than survival takes a bit of getting used to.

 

\---

 

_War hero_.

The words hung loudly around her neck like an albatross. The angry slash across her face from the Batarian blade became a symbol of awe, rather than a sign of justice well deserved.

Generals swept aside her short comings as swiftly as they pinned the medals to her chest. She had abandoned her duty and they knew it. But it was bad PR if you told the truth – about that AWOL soldier who happened to be in the wrong place at the right time. _Let the media play up the heroics; ship her off to ICT as soon as was comfortably allowed._

Floating above the moons of Jupiter, Shepard wondered why zero-g training didn’t lighten her guilt.

 

\---

 

They warned you that the training would pit you against the hardest adversary – yourself. It was easy to fall back into old habits when you were hardwired for survival at any cost, and told to do just that.

Combat was where she thrived. Linguistics, trauma and medical application, _leadership and management courses_ … She fell behind. Adrenaline was preferable to negotiation. From street rat to informant to base infiltration, Shepard wormed her way to N3 on wits alone.

Markel was the first to pay the price for her shortcomings. Then Hodges, Sanders, Tiwari, Wulfe, Mateo, Villaobos ( _Obos! Obos! Obos!_ ) - even little, chuckling de Los Santos. Shepard could rouse a mess hall like the best of them, but found herself last to be picked on the playground when it mattered.

(It was the blood of brotherhood that was all over her hands, while their bodies stayed intact.)

Ego gave way to silence. She stopped regaling in her heroics. They called her callous and avoided her; she considered it the first step in learning to live with herself.

 

\---

 

Shepard breathed.

Cool, calm. Ready to serve the admirals who picked her over. Statistics, medical history, accolades, and demerits (now fewer in number.) Her life was laid bare as a page on their screen and it mattered little to them beyond how good it read.

N6 deployment - she could taste the dirt and sweat of the backwater planet already. She’d made few friends at ICT, but found a way to lead them anyway. And now she’d return to serving someone else. Hopefully with better results.

Names were called, and soldiers divvied out. Shepard stood before a captain named Anderson, who did not respond to her salute. Animosity she could handle; silence was dangerous. Especially with the way he looked her over and saw her through.

A smile cracked his face as he gave her the datapad in his hands.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this instead of doing homework. i might continue it. i might not. idk?? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
